When Zhao Ci saw Yang Mo's request, he had a bad feeling.
'Don't doubt me for a month.'
'I will handle everything.'
'And I won't implicate Zhao Ci?'
'In other words...'
'So you're not a hundred percent sure you can pull this off, are you?'
'But then again, that makes sense. If it came to assassination, even I couldn't be a hundred percent certain the Imperial Clan Court wouldn't find any traces. After all, their powers of observation are incredibly sharp.'
'But is Lao Mo's grudge against Yang Ming really that deep?'
'So deep he'd bet his own future on it?'
On the high platform.
Zhao Yan's brow was tightly furrowed. He was clearly not at ease. The Mansion Scramble had always been dangerous, and it was normal for a few disciples from the great clans to die. If it had only been an ordinary disciple, it normally wouldn't have caused such a stir.
But the one who died this time was Yang Ming.
